


Kusokawa

by Tammaiya



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 12:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tammaiya/pseuds/Tammaiya
Summary: The day that Matsukawa discovers that one of Iwaizumi's nicknames for Oikawa is geeky net slang may go down as the best day of his life.





	Kusokawa

“Kusokawa! Come back here, you asshole!” Iwaizumi hollered, pegging a volleyball violently in the direction that Oikawa had run off, but it rebounded off the closed door of the storage room with a loud reverberating _THUD_.

Their errant captain, being his usual childish self, had dumped a bottle of water all over Iwaizumi’s head as retaliation for ignoring him, and then taken off cackling before Iwaizumi could kill him dead on the spot. Honestly, Takahiro had to agree, it was pretty funny; the combination of Iwaizumi’s red, scowly face with his hair flat in some places and sticking up in weird, irrepressible tufts in others, water trickling down his shirt and clumping his eyelashes, was perfect meme material.

At the sound of a phone camera shutter going off, Iwaizumi turned his homicidal glare towards Takahiro and growled.

“Delete it,” he said in a low, threatening tone. “ _Now_.”

“Now, Iwaizumi, you know I can't do that--”

“You've got five seconds,” Iwaizumi informed him. Takahiro edged backwards towards the door, clutching his precious phone close to his chest as Iwaizumi took a menacing step in his direction.

Right before Takahiro was about to make an inevitably futile break for it, the door swung open and Matsukawa stuck his head inside, distracting them both.

“Hey, Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa said casually, in the way that three years of best friendship had taught Takahiro meant he was about to stir some shit. “Did you just call Oikawa ‘kusokawa’ _again_? Man, you really need to learn to tone the flirting down, we've got innocent first years, you know?”

Takahiro and Iwaizumi stared at him.

“Uhhh,” said Takahiro. Not that he didn't appreciate the assist, but where was Matsukawa going with this?

“What the fuck,” Iwaizumi said flatly, with his usual eloquence.

“Oh, you mean you didn't know?” Matsukawa said, brimming with fake earnestness. “And here I thought it was such an endearing nickname!”

“Know _what_?” Iwaizumi said, in the suspicious tones of someone who knew they were going to regret asking but couldn't help themselves. Takahiro let the smirk spread across his face, looking forward to whatever beautiful punchline was coming.

“Ah, well, you know how my cousin is a total geek, right?” Matsukawa said, seemingly apropos of nothing, and shrugged. “I was over at his place on the weekend and he was going on and on about how great this character from this game he's playing is-- and he was like, you don't even know, man, you have to see her love confession, it's so kusokawa!”

“Oh my god,” Takahiro said, with a feeling of rising glee. “Are you telling me--”

“Yeah, apparently it's geek net slang,” Matsukawa continued, not even trying to conceal his shit-eating grin. “Short for kuso kawaii. For when something is so fucking cute, you can't even.”

“Wow, Iwaizumi, tell us how you _really_ feel,” Takahiro teased, practically choking on his own laughter. “Is Oikawa _that fucking cute_ , huh?”

Iwaizumi’s face was really red, now-- from embarrassment or anger, or most likely a combination of the two. He narrowed his eyes, flicking his glare between the two of them as he clenched his fists tighter by his sides. Oikawa was right: you really could see the vein in his forehead throb when he got this mad.

“I will end you both,” he vowed, stomping right up into their space. “ _No one will find the pieces_.”

Takahiro and Matsukawa both wisely stepped out of his way when he continued on his warpath out of the room, probably off to kill Oikawa first before doubling back to deal with the two of them. It was fine; they always knew where they were on the list of priorities between their glorious leaders, and at times like this, it was a thing to be thankful for.

“So, wanna bet he's too embarrassed to call Oikawa that for at least a month?” Takahiro said after a moment of silence.

Matsukawa laughed. “You're on,” he said. “I bet he's too stubborn even if it makes him blush. Or that he'll forget and keep using it anyway, maybe.”

Takahiro nodded thoughtfully. “Seems legit,” he said. “Loser buys the winner a meat bun.”

“Deal,” Matsukawa said, and they shook on it.

Whichever way the bet panned out, Takahiro knew that he and Matsukawa were both winners in this situation, because this was going to be fucking _hilarious_.

~

“Hey, K-- Kuzukawa, we’re going to be late to practice if you don't stop preening,” Iwa-chan said impatiently, and it was almost exactly the way he usually bossed Tooru around and insulted his perfectly reasonable grooming routines-- whatever, did Iwa-chan even know what a comb _looked_ like?-- except for the way he hesitated, just for a split second, over that awful nickname.

Iwaizumi Hajime was many things, but hesitant, he was not. He wasn't insecure, he didn't second guess himself, and he had never had a stutter. He was steady, and confident in himself; when words came out of his mouth, it was because he meant them. The only time he paused to think through his words was when it was really, truly important and he needed to test them through in his mind first to make sure they all had the right weight to them. In his heart of hearts, Tooru had always envied Iwa-chan his self possession, though he'd die before admitting it.

And now Iwa-chan was stumbling over a nickname he'd been calling Tooru for years-- not just once, but repeatedly for the last few days. It was weird. _Iwa-chan_ was being weird.

Tooru was infamous for his sharp perception, with good reason. His ability to identify and hone in on weaknesses and chinks in people’s shields was one of his greatest strengths both as a captain and as a setter. He was proud of it, even if certain rude teammates accused him of being _scary_. Honestly; he would only ever use his powers for good, and to destroy his opponents. Which was clearly also for good, especially when those opponents included Tobio-chan or Ushiwaka-chan.

(Well, okay, _maybe_ he had been known to pick apart his friends’ weaknesses before, but only to _help_ them. Really. Anyone would think he was a sadist, the way those ingrates made it sound.)

_Anyway_. The thing was, Tooru paid attention. He noticed things about people, their mannerisms, their nervous habits, and he filed them away in his mind in case they later became useful. And if his teammates and opponents were common targets of his observations, then it would be accurate to say, by comparison, that he had dedicated himself to a lifelong study of Iwaizumi Hajime. _No one_ knew Iwa-chan like he did, and there was no one and nothing else to whom Tooru had devoted so much of his own time and attention other than volleyball.

And even then… Iwaizumi was such a core part of what volleyball meant to him that he may still win out as Tooru’s most studied subject.

The point of all this being: it was subtle, but something was definitely off with Iwa-chan. Tooru didn't know what it was-- not precisely, not yet-- but for the past five days, Iwa-chan had been acting somehow _different_ , and the fumbled nickname was only part of it.

“Hmmm,” Tooru hummed, squinting at him sidelong. “Hmmmmmmm.”

Iwa-chan snorted, for all intents and purposes his usual brash, short-tempered self. “Quit that, dumbass, it's annoying,” he snapped. “Are you done?”

Well. No hints there. Just the usual rude Iwa-chan.

“You can't rush art, Iwa-chan,” Tooru said, sniffing as he patted his hair back in place. “But _yes_ , as it so happens, I am. No thanks to you.”

Iwa-chan rolled his eyes so hard Tooru wouldn't be surprised if he strained something. “Whatever,” he said dismissively, and turned to go without waiting to see if Tooru was following.

Tooru pursed his lips in a frown. Iwa-chan was acting like Iwa-chan again, but…

Well, never mind. Volleyball came first, and he would always have time to pursue whatever was up with Iwa-chan later.

“Iwa-chan, wait up!” he yelled, running to catch up before he was left behind.

Practice was practice, for the most part, except for how Tooru could feel the tension around Iwa-chan ratcheting up every single time they spoke. Except for the way Iwa-chan was clearly getting more and more frustrated, the strain of it written all over his face every time he tripped and stumbled over Tooru’s nickname. Except for Makki and Mattsun, who kept smirking and elbowing each other with each increasingly obvious slip of Iwa-chan’s tongue.

Tooru was briefly concerned that this would interfere with their training-- and it would have to be pretty serious for that, because Iwa-chan was responsible and almost as dedicated to volleyball as Tooru himself-- but either it wasn't that big a deal or Iwa-chan was just too stubborn to let that happen, because they made it through to cleaning up the gym after practice was done without incident.

“Hey,” Iwa-chan said suddenly, stopping in his tracks from where he'd been collecting stray volleyballs and forcing Watacchi to veer around him to avoid a collision. “...Oikawa.”

Tooru froze, blinking several times before he turned his head to stare at Iwa-chan. Aside from the slight but noticeable pause before his name, there was just something really awkward about the way Iwa-chan had said it, like he was planning on saying something else and changed his mind at the last moment. Not to mention, usually when Iwa-chan wanted his attention in this context, he'd yell at him and throw a volleyball at his head.

And Makki and Mattsun were sniggering, again.

“Yes?” Tooru said cautiously, after Iwa-chan failed to say anything.

Iwa-chan was frowning, his brow furrowed so deeply Tooru's head ached just looking at him. It was tempting to make a gorilla joke, but Iwa-chan was staring at him so intensely that it was making Tooru the teensiest bit nervous.

“K--” Iwa-chan started, then stopped, jaw tightening in that way it did when he was being stubborn. “ _Kusokawa_.”

“Iwa-chan?” Tooru said, slightly startled by the emphatic way Iwa-chan had just said that. Was he mad? Tooru wasn't even doing anything particularly annoying right now, just helping the first years take down the net.

He was even more bemused when there was a snort of laughter behind him-- it was Makki, definitely-- and Iwa-chan flushed, no longer meeting Tooru's eyes.

“Can you lock up by yourself tonight?” he said, not quite mumbling but not at his usual volume either. “I've gotta… Mum needs me to do some shit around the house.”

“Auntie does?” Tooru tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. Considering that Iwa-chan had lived next door for their entire lives and they practically shared families, it seemed suspicious that Tooru wouldn't know about this sooner. In fact, it was pretty suspicious that Auntie Tsubaki would even ask Iwa-chan to do something when they had practice, unless it was really urgent.

Iwaizumi shrugged awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck and still not looking at Tooru. “Yeah, you know… whatever.”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Tooru said, mockingly, but apparently Iwa-chan wasn't about to be drawn into a stupid argument, because he turned around and walked straight to the locker rooms without a word.

Tooru stared after him, almost unable to believe that Iwa-chan had literally just _walked out on him_ in the middle of a conversation without even hitting him or calling him names first.

“Hey, Iwa-- _wait_ \--” he called out, but Kunimi-chan had unscrewed the poles without any regard for his captain’s dilemma and Tooru was stuck where he was supporting their weight, unable to chase after Iwa-chan and demand to know what was going on.

This was weird. _Weird_. Iwa-chan did not bail on him like that, with a stupid flimsy non-excuse and not even a parting insult.

“Close your mouth, Captain, you look like a fish,” Mattsun said helpfully, and Kyouken-chan snorted. The first years were awkwardly averting their eyes, probably not wanting to get involved in third year drama, which, _fine_ , but usually Tooru at least knew what the drama was about. “Hey, Hanamaki, you owe me a meat bun.”

“Dammit, Iwaizumi,” Makki sighed. “Couldn't you have waited a few weeks?”

Tooru crossed his arms, eying the pair of them with suspicion. “You two know something. Tell me. _Now_.”

“Who, us?” Mattsun said, with appallingly fake innocence. “I have no idea what you mean. Hanamaki?”

Makki rocked back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back. “Nope, I got nothing. Sure you're feeling alright there, Oikawa?”

Tooru scowled. “Don't try playing dumb with me, you were betting on something and it's got to do with Iwa-chan,” he said. “What's going on?”

Makki and Mattsun traded a glance.

“Why don't you just ask Iwaizumi yourself?” Makki suggested, and Tooru let out a frustrated huff.

“If he was going to tell me, he would've already told me,” he said, a bitter admission.

As much as Iwa-chan accused Tooru of bottling things up and trying to keep his problems to himself, he could be just as bad at times. Tooru had learned by long experience: if Iwaizumi wanted to talk about something, he'd bring it up himself, abruptly and with no regard for tact. And if he _didn't_ want to talk about it, then nothing and nobody could make him open his mouth.

If something was bothering Iwa-chan for long enough that Tooru noticed him behaving strangely and he hadn't said anything about it, it always, always meant it was up to Tooru to figure it out for himself, because asking would get him exactly nowhere.

Makki and Mattsun exchanged a loaded glance, which was both annoying and confirmed that they knew more than they were saying.

“Weeeeeell,” Mattsun hedged. Tooru narrowed his eyes.

“ _Spill_.”

Makki adopted a pious expression, the picture of martyred innocence. “But Oikawa, how could you ask us to betray the confidence of a teammate, you know we would _never_ \--”

“Makki,” Tooru said sweetly. “Do you _really_ want to test me on this?”

Makki and Mattsun both winced. He'd trained all of his teammates well; they knew better than to cross him on certain topics. Anything involving Iwa-chan was right at the top of that list.

“Ugh, fine,” Mattsun said sullenly, dropping the act. “You should ask the all-knowing internet, spoilsport. And that's all I'm telling you, since I don't want to get murdered by Iwaizumi in my sleep either.”

Irritating, but fair. Iwa-chan could be pretty scary, too. But…

“The internet?” Oikawa echoed.

Makki beamed, patting him on the back with condescending tenderness. “We have faith you'll figure it out, Captain! See you at practice tomorrow!”

“We believe in you!” Mattsun added, waving as he followed Makki out of the gym.

Jerks.

But… the internet? Had Iwa-chan become an online meme or something?

No, wait. Now that he thought about it, there was a clear common thread to Iwa-chan’s weird behaviour; he'd gotten all awkward when he'd called Tooru “Kusokawa”, like it wasn't one of his favourite terrible insults that he used all the time because he was a terrible friend.

A favourite insult he hadn't used for about five days, as it so happened.

In fact… Iwa-chan had stumbled over calling Tooru “Kuzukawa” more than once in that time, like maybe he'd been about to say something else and changed his mind at the last moment.

“Huh,” Tooru said, and pulled out his phone to run a search on _kusokawa_.

~

Hajime stared blankly at his computer monitor, drumming his fingers on the desk as he contemplated his imminent doom.

Bailing out of practice early had been a mistake, there was no two ways about it. With a shitty excuse like that, he'd be lucky to get half an hour’s reprieve before Oikawa stormed into his bedroom demanding an explanation. That was the downside to being childhood friends: Hajime’s mother would just let him in, no questions asked. Ugh.

It had been about twenty minutes since he'd left practice, so he was rapidly running out of time to get his head back in the game. Oikawa was going to be here any second, and Hajime still had no idea what he was going to say.

God. How was he meant to explain this to Oikawa? He couldn't even explain this to himself, it was so stupid. Just because one of his nicknames for the human disaster that was his best friend happened to be net slang… it wasn't like he didn't already know Oikawa was ridiculously fucking cute. Hell, everyone knew that; it was impossible to ignore, even without Oikawa shoving it in people’s faces at every available opportunity.

Oikawa’s attractiveness was an indisputable and objective fact, striking enough that people would sometimes stop to take a second look when they passed him in the street. It wasn't that he looked like a girl, but he was beautiful in the kind of way that made your heart ache when he smiled. Hajime had had plenty of opportunities to grow accustomed to that sensation over the years, although it wouldn't really be accurate to say he'd grown immune, exactly. More that he'd learned to live with it.

The problem wasn't that Oikawa was cute and Hajime knew it. It wasn't even Oikawa knowing that Hajime thought he was cute, because it was pretty hard to imagine that anyone on the planet could have missed that by now, least of all Mr Observant himself. It was just that they didn't _talk_ about it, and the idea of telling Oikawa to his face how he made Hajime feel… of calling him nicknames that were actually sweet, rather than fondly awful…

It made something clench low in his gut, somewhere between a cringe of embarrassment and a burst of sheer want. And he'd just needed some time to process before he had to deal with the source of that sensation, even if it was only half an hour.

He buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath as he tried to gather his thoughts and figure out what the hell to do with them.

“IWA-CHAAAAAAN!”

Hajime’s head jerked up in the direction of Oikawa yodelling that idiotic nickname.

… Make that twenty five minutes.

The door burst open before he had the chance to do more than register Oikawa's presence in the house, and he steeled himself for the inevitable pouting and recriminations and nagging, except--

Oikawa was leaning against the doorframe, beaming from ear to ear.

“What the fuck, Kusokawa?” he said reflexively, then winced. Oikawa’s stupid grin grew, if anything, even brighter. Hajime had a bad feeling about this.

“Awww, you think I'm _so damn cute_ , Iwa-chan?” Oikawa teased, fluttering his stupidly long lashes like the little shit he was as he flopped onto Hajime's bed, and Hajime's stomach sank.

Fuck, he'd figured it out. Well, of course he had; for all that Oikawa could be oblivious when it came to certain things, for the most part he was obnoxiously sharp-eyed, and no doubt Matsukawa and Hanamaki had helped him along too, the meddling traitors.

Hajime briefly considered his options. It was tempting to try and shut this down cold, but he knew if he did that, Oikawa would never let it go. It would be his new favourite taunt, and he'd keep prodding at it until Iwaizumi finally snapped and either committed entirely justifiable homicide, or made a huge fool out of himself and _then_ killed his idiot best friend.

No judge would convict him, he was sure, but…

“So what if I do?” he said finally, deciding to embrace it and see how Oikawa would respond.

“Haha, don't lie, Iwa-chan, you know you-- wait, what?”

Hajime swivelled in his desk chair, propping his cheek up with the heel of his palm. Oikawa looked stunned speechless, which was not a look Hajime had seen on his face often in all the years they had known each other, and against all expectations, he found he was actually rather enjoying this.

“I said I think you're cute,” he said, letting a smirk grow on his lips. “So what’re you gonna do about it, _Kusokawa_?”

Oikawa blinked at him. “I,” he started, then faltered, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. “I don't… is this supposed to be a joke? Because it's not very funny.”

Hajime raised his eyebrows. “Who said it was meant to be?” he said, curious about what Oikawa would do if he pushed it.

It was rare for him to pay Oikawa an overt compliment, and rarer still that it would be for something unrelated to volleyball. Prior to the last few days, this had never really seemed like a big deal; he and Oikawa knew each other better than they knew themselves, and Oikawa had to know how Hajime felt about him, even if he never put it into words.

At least, in theory. Maybe it wasn't a bad idea to actually say it out loud sometimes, if this was the reaction he was going to get.

“Iwa-chan--”

“Ah, but you know, you're cuter like this than when you’re trying to be,” he added thoughtfully, studying the blush rapidly spreading across Oikawa’s face to the tips of his ears.

“Don't be mean, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, voice wavering and robbing the retort of its sharpness. Hajime frowned, more confused than anything. It had been fun to catch Oikawa off guard for a change, but at most Hajime had expected him to be flustered for a minute or two before laughing it off, not… whatever this was.

“Mean? I just called you cute,” he pointed out. “I don't know why you're acting like this is such a huge shock. You know how damn cute you are, Oikawa. Aren't you the one who's always telling me?”

“But you never agree! Iwa-chan is Iwa-chan, you don't say things like that,” Oikawa argued. He looked like he was about to cry, eyes all shiny the way the got when he was blinking back tears but before he started with the full on ugly sobbing. “Don't… don't make fun of me.”

Hajime stared at him incredulously. He knew that Oikawa could be weirdly insecure at times, under the front he put up, but even he could forget that at times.

And then something like _this_ came along to remind him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he said after a long, drawn out moment where Oikawa refused to look at him, still sitting on Hajime's bed but with his knees pulled up to his chest, so damn vulnerable that it was driving Iwaizumi crazy. “Hey, Oikawa. How dense are you, if you think I'm making fun of you?”

Oikawa’s bottom lip jutted out in a sullen pout. “What, then?”

“You know you're cute,” he said slowly, pushing up out of his desk chair and crossing the few steps to his bed to stand over the boy who was both his best friend and the source of all his headaches. “You know _I_ think you're cute-- or you should, if you weren't an idiot. Do you really need me to tell you?”

“I don't think I've ever heard you say the word ‘cute’ so much, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, eyes sliding to the side. “It's weird.”

“Don't deflect,” Hajime told him, and shoved at his shoulder until Oikawa fell back onto the bed, pinned down by Hajime's hand on his collarbone and weight across his hips so he couldn't hide anymore. “Hey. Tooru. Look at me.”

Oikawa’s gaze flicked to his, shocked into a reaction by the overly intimate use of his given name, and caught and held. “I-Iwa…?”

Hajime smirked, then leaned down so that his lips brushed against the shell of Oikawa’s ear. “You’re really fucking cute like this, Kusokawa,” he murmured, and felt Oikawa give a full body shiver beneath him.

It wasn't a line they'd ever crossed before, despite what Hajime knew a lot of their classmates and especially their teammates thought. It wasn't like he'd never thought about it-- hell, he'd thought about it what felt like all the damn time when he'd first hit puberty, constant emotional and physical torture every time Oikawa smiled or glanced at Hajime slyly from beneath his lashes or curved his spine in the graceful arc of his jump serve.

But just because Hajime was embarrassingly into Oikawa's everything, that didn't mean Oikawa felt the same way. Hajime had decided a long time ago that he would rather be Oikawa's best friend than let things get awkward between them by pushing things if Oikawa didn't feel the same way. Not that Oikawa would be awful about it-- as much as he could be a completely terrible human being sometimes, Hajime would trust Oikawa with his life-- but he'd feel guilty about not being able to reciprocate, and that would ruin everything. Even worse, Hajime wouldn't put it past him to try and pretend he felt something he didn't just for Hajime's sake, and the mere idea of that was completely unbearable.

Oikawa had never given any real, unmistakable sign that he wanted Hajime the way Hajime wanted him, and the risk just hadn't been worth it. After all, Oikawa chased down what he wanted relentlessly, to hell with the consequences; Hajime had assumed that if Oikawa felt the same way, he would have done something about it. He'd also assumed that Oikawa _knew_ , the same way he knew everything about all his teammates, and was just tacitly ignoring it so they wouldn't actually have to deal with it.

Of course, Hajime thought now, it was easy to forget what a coward Oikawa could be about certain things, or how shortsighted when it came to himself. And it was still risky, but--

Somehow, with Oikawa beneath him like this, Hajime was powerless to resist the temptation, risks be damned. What was it that Oikawa liked to say? If you're going to hit it, hit it until it breaks?

Hajime nipped at Oikawa’s ear, fascinated by the little whimpering noise Oikawa made in response, encouraged by the way Oikawa’s hands flew to his chest but didn't try to push him away.

Oikawa’s breath caught in a choked gasp when Hajime’s tongue traced the contoured curve of his ear, fingers curling convulsively in Hajime’s shirt. “Iwa-chan! What are you… why… what are you _doing_?”

“I'd ask if you honestly need me to answer that,” Hajime said, pulling back slightly to look at Oikawa’s face, which was red and a bit splotchy, his lashes spiky and damp. “But I'm starting to realise you really are that dumb.”

Oikawa frowned, looking actually and genuinely hurt for once. “Mean, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime sighed heavily, letting his head drop against the curve of Oikawa’s neck for a second before he lifted it again, shifting so his weight was supported on both forearms but the full length of his body now lay heavily over Oikawa’s, chest to chest and legs half tangled together.

“Oikawa,” he said, with exaggerated patience. “ _Tooru._ You think I'm teasing when I call you cute. You ask me what I'm doing when I pin you down on my bed. The way I feel about you is so blindingly obvious that every single member of our team knows about it, except, apparently, for _you_. After all that… are you really gonna make me say it?”

Oikawa stared up at him, gaze darting from side to side like he was searching for some kind of truth in Hajime's eyes. “Iwa-chan,” he said roughly, and cleared his throat. “I can't… I need to be sure. This isn't… I mean, if you're just playing a prank on me--”

“Hey, Kusokawa,” Hajime cut him off, fondly exasperated despite himself. “I’m in love with you, you idiot.”

Oikawa blinked, clearly startled.

“That was the worst confession ever,” he said faintly.

Hajime huffed a laugh, pressing his forehead against Oikawa’s. Warm, but not feverish, he noted absently.

“At least I said something,” he pointed out. “Are you going to just leave me hanging?”

Oikawa’s face turned even redder, until he looked like a tomato.

“You know,” he said, eyes hidden by the downwards sweep of his lashes.

“Do I?” Hajime asked, only partially to torment Oikawa. “I'm not sure, maybe I need to hear you say it, or maybe I'm being too pushy and I should give you some space--”

Hajime moved to roll off when Oikawa’s hand shot out, clenching in the front of his shirt and hauling him back bodily so he crashed down on top, the air going _oof_ right out of his lungs.

Oikawa mumbled something into Hajime’s shoulder, face mashed right against his chest. Hajime couldn't make out a word, but he could feel the moist warmth of Oikawa’s breath through the thin cotton, feel the shape of his lips moving, and it was having an unfortunate effect on Hajime’s libido.

He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably and trying to put even a centimetre of distance between their bodies.

“Sorry, can't hear you, what was that?” he said, trying to regain control of the situation.

“You're such a bully,” Oikawa said, voice small but at least audible now that he was no longer plastered to Hajime’s chest.

Hajime rolled his eyes. “Guess that means you're into being bullied,” he said dryly. If he couldn't needle Oikawa into admitting he liked him, at least he could annoy Oikawa into looking at him.

Oikawa didn't look at him, though. He didn't start yelling about what an uncouth ogre Hajime was. Instead, after a moment’s hesitation, he moved his head slightly in an unmistakable nod, hair brushing against Hajime’s chin.

Hajime froze, squeezing his eyes shut. Shit. He didn't really think-- _shit_.

Oikawa wiggled beneath him, making everything infinitely worse.

“Iwa-chan,” he said tentatively. “You're hard.”

“And you're a brat,” Hajime retorted. “What'd you expect, you little shit?”

Oikawa relaxed back against the pillows, finally looking back up again. His face was still red, but he was smiling now, a small impish grin that held a hint of shyness and punched Hajime right in the gut.

“So brutish,” he said. “Not even a kiss before you go taking liberties, you goril--mmph?!”

Hajime threaded his hand through that slightly messy brown hair, slanting his mouth over Oikawa's so that the end of the complaint got swallowed between them. After a few seconds of shocked stillness, Oikawa’s lips softened under his, moving against him and inviting him in.

He'd initially only been thinking of making Oikawa stop talking, but he got distracted when it turned out that kissing him was both far more effective and more pleasurable a means of shutting him up than pegging a volleyball at his head.

“‘Taking liberties’, who the hell actually says that, you weirdo,” he said, when they broke apart, breathing each other’s air in short gasping pants. “Anyway, you're just as hard as I am.”

“ _Iwa-chan_!” Oikawa yelped, like this was somehow scandalous after he'd said it first and they'd just been making out on Hajime’s bed. “That was my first kiss, you know.”

Technically it was Hajime’s first kiss too, but that part, he couldn't care less about. He could have lost count of the number of people he'd kissed before, and this would still be the most important, because it was his first kiss with Oikawa Tooru. Any other first kiss would pale in comparison. Not that Hajime was enough of a sap, or sucker, to say that out loud. The world could end before Oikawa would let it go, if he did.

“You're the one who brought it up,” he said instead. “Besides, you're the one who still hasn't even told me he likes me.”

Oikawa blinked several times in quick succession. “I'm… but… I tell you all the time!”

Hajime raised his eyebrows. “Is this before or after you call me a gorilla?”

Oikawa opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it. There was a faintly stunned look on his face, and Hajime thought he would have remember today as the day he finally managed to render his idiot best friend speechless.

“You're lucky I'm so stupidly into you that I like you even when you're shitty,” he added. Oikawa scrunched his nose, his expression doing something weird that probably meant he was torn between feeling touched and feeling insulted. It was tempting to tease Oikawa some more, and make him actually use his words-- for a guy who could say some truly embarrassingly sentimental things to the team as captain, he sure could be shy about actually talking about his feelings-- but it was even more tempting to take advantage of the newfound freedom to touch, and kiss that look off his face instead.

Bracing his arms on either side of Oikawa’s head, Hajime leaned in, relishing the way Oikawa's eyes widened but he didn't try to pull away, when--

_Knock knock knock._

Hajime froze centimetres from Oikawa’s lips, close enough that he could feel Oikawa’s quick breaths puffing against his face.

“Hajime! Dinner is almost ready, should I get your brother to set a place for Tooru?”

Hajime rolled off Oikawa so they lay side by side, willing his heart to slow from its frantic gallop and thanking every lucky star he possibly had that his mother didn't have a habit of just opening the door and walking into the room the way Oikawa’s mum did.

“Thanks, auntie!” Oikawa called, raising his voice to be heard through the door. “We'll be down in about ten minutes, right, Iwa-chan?”

“Uh,” Hajime said, and cleared his throat. “Yeah. Ten minutes.”

“Okay, boys, don't study too hard,” his mum said, and Hajime flinched, guilty conscience kicking him right where it hurt.

“We won't,” he said, drowning in awkwardness as he refused to even look in Oikawa’s direction. It was true, anyway. He could say with absolute confidence that there was no risk of over-studying happening any time soon, not least because he didn't have enough blood left in his brain for critical thinking.

A few seconds later, he could hear the sound of footsteps going downstairs, and finally let the tension bleed out of his muscles. Close. Way too close.

Oikawa turned on his side, curling in towards Hajime’s body. “Hey, Iwa-chan--”

“Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

“Rude,” Oikawa complained, pressing his cheek up against Hajime’s arm. “You don't even know what I was going to say.”

Hajime snorted. “Knowing you, you were probably going to suggest we make out some more. Which, hell no, are you crazy? My mother practically walked in on us.”

Oikawa didn't argue, which no doubt meant Hajime was right. They lay there in companionable silence for a minute or two, Hajime staring blankly up the ceiling and questioning all of his life choices, Oikawa uncharacteristically quiet. Hajime started to wonder if Oikawa was okay when he felt the tentative brush of Oikawa’s hand against his, loosely tangling their fingers together, and he turned his head to find Oikawa watching him with a solemn look in his eyes.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, so softly Hajime barely heard him. “Will you go out with me?”

Hajime’s breath seized in his throat, chest aching like he was about to have a damn heart attack.

_Fuck_ , Oikawa really was too fucking cute when he was like this.

“Well it's not like anyone else is going to put up with you,” he said gruffly, trying to cover his embarrassment. “Someone has to take responsibility.”

“Iwa-chan is a terrible boyfriend,” Oikawa whined, but cuddled into Hajime's side, burying his face against the crook of Hajime's neck.

Hajime was still hard and they were going to have to get up and go downstairs in a few minutes, but he was also stupidly happy, so he didn't even try to push Oikawa away.

~

The next day at practice, Issei was holding out to see what had happened, but for all intents and purposes, Oikawa and Iwaizumi seemed the same as ever. He wouldn't be surprised if they'd had a dumb argument about it and then gotten over it, but at the very least he'd expected Oikawa to be teasing Iwaizumi about it relentlessly today.

And yet. Nothing.

“This is weird,” he said to Hanamaki under his breath, as Oikawa practised his serves across the other side of the gym. “Don't you think this is weird? Has Oikawa finally achieved his dream and been replaced by an alien?”

Hanamaki shrugged. “Oikawa's always weird,” he said. “Iwaizumi is the only one who can handle him. Maybe he managed to blackmail Oikawa into dropping it, or something.”

“Maybe,” Issei conceded, not entirely convinced. Still, facts were facts, and the facts were that Oikawa and Iwaizumi were back to acting like nothing had happened. There was no way Oikawa wouldn't have figured it out from the hint he and Hanamaki had given him-- and even if he hadn't, he would have been nagging Iwaizumi about it relentlessly anyway-- so the two of them must have resolved it _somehow_. Maybe Iwaizumi really was blackmailing him.

Issei gave a mental shrug, capping the top of his water bottle. “Back to business,” he said, tossing the bottle on top of his bag and stretching his arms to loosen the muscles as he watched Oikawa pace back for a jump serve, Yahaba ready and waiting on the other side of the net to attempt the receive.

Oikawa spun the ball in his hands, tossing it high in the air.

“Nice serve, Kusokawa!” Iwaizumi yelled as Oikawa started his run up, and they all watched with fascinated horror as their captain turned bright red, tripped over his own feet, and face planted spectacularly into the gym floor.

The sound of the volleyball bouncing as it hit the ground several times and then rolled into the wall seemed unnaturally loud in the sudden silence.

Issei and Hanamaki whipped around to stare at Iwaizumi, who was starting to turn pink himself now.

“Uh,” he said, rubbing at the back of his head awkwardly. “Oikawa? Are you okay?”

“Iwa-chan, you jerk!” Oikawa wailed, muffled by the hands covering his face and the way he curled himself in over his bent legs. Despite his best attempts to hide, Issei could still see the neon glow of his ears between the artful curls of his hair. “My beautiful face!”

Iwaizumi huffed a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Is _that_ all?” he said, but he looked a little guilty as he crossed over to kneel by Oikawa’s side. “Hey. K-- Oikawa. Seriously. Is your knee okay?”

Oikawa gave an exaggerated sniffle, but no doubt sensed the threat to his continued rights to play volleyball. “My knee is fine,” he said sullenly. “No thanks to you, you brute.”

Iwaizumi frowned. “Maybe you should get the nurse to check it out.”

“Don't be silly, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa said, brisk and dismissive now as though he wasn't the one who'd been carrying on like a big baby five seconds ago. “I just tripped, it's fine! Aside from the damage to my gorgeous visage, of course, but I'm sure it's no worse than your usual violent assaults on my person. We're in the middle of practice, your mother-henning can wait.”

Iwaizumi's frown darkened. “No.”

“Iwa-chan--”

“You're getting your knee checked,” Iwaizumi interrupted. “Now.”

Oikawa finally took his hands away from his face so he could cross his arms and give Iwaizumi an appropriately condescending look, although his flushed face and rumpled hair made him look more like a sulky kid. “Make me.”

A disturbingly thoughtful look passed over Iwaizumi's face.

“Oh no,” Issei breathed. “He _wouldn't_.”

“Okay,” Iwaizumi said, and hoisted Oikawa up in his arms in a princess lift, heedless of Oikawa shrieking and flailing his arms wildly before throwing them around Iwaizumi's neck. “I'm taking this idiot to sickbay, you guys get back to practice.”

“Oh no,” Hanamaki said, eyes wide and his expression caught somewhere between admiration and shock. “He _did_.”

“Iwa-chaaaaaan,” Oikawa whined, burying his face in Iwaizumi's neck. “Put me down! You're embarrassing me in front of our kouhai!”

Issei could see the small, unrepentant hitch of Iwaizumi's shoulders, no doubt the closest he could get to a shrug while supporting Oikawa's entire weight. “Too bad,” he said. “You shouldn't have said it if you can't deal with the consequences, _Kusokawa_.”

Oikawa whimpered, and Issei could see his arms tighten around Iwaizumi's neck. It felt uncomfortably like witnessing foreplay.

“Iwa-chan’s a meanie,” Oikawa complained as Iwaizumi carried him across the gym, but he honestly didn't seem to be resisting that hard. Or at all.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi muttered, as he walked out of the gym. “You really are too fucking cute when you're not being annoying.”

“ _Rude_. You're such a bully, Iwa-chan.”

“I thought you were into that?”

“I-- you're not meant to-- _Iwa-chan_!”

It was probably not meant to be overheard, but sadly for Issei and Hanamaki, they were standing near the still open doors and Iwaizumi and Oikawa really weren't that quiet, all things considered.

“We've created a monster,” Issei said after a really long pause. “Do you know what this means, Hanamaki? Those two idiots are going to be _even worse_.”

Hanamaki sighed. “Karma’s a bitch.”

They stood on the sidelines, watching their poor traumatised juniors trying desperately to do their drills and pretend that nothing weird had just happened. Kindaichi looked especially flustered.

“At least I got a meat bun out of it,” Issei said eventually.

Hanamaki socked him in the arm. 

**Author's Note:**

> I tossed up over whether writing this fic would work in English, given the premise is based on a Japanese pun. Obviously in the end I couldn't resist, but it does mean there are some words I would usually have translated that have been left in Japanese. They should be fairly clear from context, but just in case they aren't:
> 
> Kusokawa: Shittykawa  
> Kuzukawa: Trashykawa  
> Kuso kawaii: fuck that's cute


End file.
